


Spiders

by abp



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abp/pseuds/abp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is afraid of something--even Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is all the fault of little-miss-havisham and her cute headcanons.

They were in the middle of a conversation when Enjolras trailed off, his gaze locked on the table. Grantaire stared at him curiously then at the point of his focus. A tiny spider sat atop Enjolras’ notebook.

“Everything alright?” Grantaire quirked an eyebrow.

Enjolras scowled at him. “Of course.”

“Are you going to squish it or just keep staring?” His voice took on a tone of amusement and taunting that Grantaire knew would set off Enjolras.

Sure enough he was nearly glaring at Grantaire by now. “ _Yes_ , I’m going to squish it.” But he didn’t move and instead continued to stare hesitantly at it.

“Sorry, Apollo, but even _your_ godly gaze isn’t enough to smite the beast,” Grantaire teased playfully.

The spider inched slightly in Enjolras’ direction and he flinched away. Grantaire’s eyes widened with amusement and a smirk slipped onto his features.

“Christ, you’re _afraid_ of it, aren’t you?”

“No!” Enjolras insisted irritably.

Grantaire smiled serenely. “So you wouldn’t mind me moving your notebook like so.” He pushed it towards Enjolras.

The blond let out a strangled noise and moved back in his chair. “Okay, okay! I hate spiders. Now kill it. _Please_.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Grantaire grinned, only just holding back his laughter. He took care of the spider easily. “There. Mean Mr. Spider’s all gone. You feel better now?”

The scowl was back on Enjolras’ face. “Don’t act so smug.”

“I was just trying to help,” Grantaire insisted with an innocence ruined by the smirk curled on his lips. “Be a good friend and that.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Can we just move on?”

Grantaire nodded.

“Okay. So what I was saying—“

“I can’t believe you’re afraid of spiders,” Grantaire interrupted, chuckling to himself.

Enjolras groaned and gave up.


	2. My Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire is the official spider killer.

“ _Grantaire!_ ”

He could tell immediately by the tone of Enjolras’ voice what was the matter. With a fond sigh, he gave up on the project sprawled across the kitchen table and moved towards the bedroom. There Enjolras was tangled in blankets on their bed, a laptop open on top of him, with his gaze stuck firmly at a spot on the wall.

“Spider?” Grantaire asked, a hint of a smile on his features.

Enjolras nodded jerkily and pointed at it. “Kill it, R.”

“On it,” Grantaire chuckled. He grabbed a tissue and squished the pest mercilessly, then carried the remains off to be flushed down the toilet. (After one particular case of a spider not being quite as dead as he thought it was, he was always very careful).

Grantaire returned afterwards, taking his place beside Enjolras. “The beast has been vanquished,” he announced, arranging himself so Enjolras was pressed warmly against his side, his arm wrapped lazily around Enjolras’ waist.

“My hero,” Enjolras murmured dryly. He turned slightly and pressed his face into the crook of Grantaire’s neck.

“Is that sarcasm?” Grantaire poked his hip gently. “Maybe I’ll stop killing spiders for you. We’ll see how much you appreciate me then.”

Enjolras huffed against his skin, his warm breath tickling Grantaire.

He carded his fingers through Enjolras’ golden curls lovingly. “How about I take a break and we watch an episode of _Elementary_?”

“You _just_ started working on your project,” Enjolras pointed out, lifting his head enough to meet Grantaire’s eyes.

“I know. But you look so tempting still in bed,” he whined. “And I have plenty of time.”

“Fine.” Enjolras laid his head back down. “But only one episode. I have stuff to do today too.”

Grantaire pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Just one and I’m out of your hair for the day.”

Enjolras hummed his contentment and stayed curled against Grantaire, letting him take care of moving the laptop and setting it all up. “I’d rather spend all day like this, you know,” he finally said, as the opening credits played.

“Me too,” Grantaire murmured, stroking his hip affectionately.

Halfway through the episode, Enjolras was asleep and Grantaire’s attention shifted from the show to the soft rise-and-fall of his breath and the way the light streamed over him. He gave in soon after, letting his eyes slip shut and breathing even out. There would always be time to work later; lazy Saturday mornings were meant for _them_.


	3. Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting isn't unusual. But finding Enjolras on the couch instead of in bed? That is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So lubabathegreat said: "I'm interested in seeing what would happen if they just had a fight and are in separate rooms cooling off when E sees a big spider, but doesn't want to call R 'cause, you know, they're fighting."
> 
> And I am physically incapable of resisting prompts, even when I had already promised myself there would be no more silly spider stories.

“Yeah? Well _fuck you_.” Grantaire stormed out the front door, slamming it hard behind him.

As soon as he was on the other side, he regretted it. _Where was he supposed to go now?_ But he still felt hot with anger—it thrummed through his veins—and he could hardly go back inside.

Grantaire ended up wandering aimlessly through the streets. The winter air left him with flushed cheeks and icy hands; he stepped into bookstores or cafes when he could. He knew he’d be welcomed at any number of his friends’ apartments, but that would feel like admitting defeat—admitting that he and Enjolras had fought. _Again_. Besides, it felt good to walk until his legs ached and he could hardly think of anything but his own exhaustion.

When his eyelids felt heavy and his ears were practically frostbitten, Grantaire decided it was finally time to go home. He had forgiven Enjolras at least a half hour ago and was almost certain he wouldn’t end up screaming himself hoarse at the stubborn blond. Snow fluttered lazily around him as he hurried home, hoping Enjolras had cooled down too.

Grantaire opened the door with quiet care. He was met with silence, so he tiptoed towards the closed bedroom door, imagining Enjolras would already be wrapped up in bed with a book. Hopefully waiting for him; hopefully not still angry.

“’Taire?”

The sleepy voice came from the couch and Grantaire halted in the middle of the room, turning to find Enjolras groggily sitting up.

“What are you doing out here?” Grantaire crossed back to the couch quickly, then hesitated. Enjolras was moving, though—making space for him. He took it as a good sign and sat.

From there he could clearly make out the pink on Enjolras’ cheeks. “I—uh.” Enjolras frowned suddenly. “ _Jesus_ , Grantaire, you’re _freezing_. I can feel the cold coming off of you!”

Before Grantaire could protest, Enjolras was snug against him with a blanket wrapped tight around their shoulders.

“Were you outside this whole time?” His face was soft with concern as he brushed melting snowflakes from Grantaire’s dark curls.

Grantaire gave a half shrug. “Not the _whole_ time. Maybe most of it.”

“You were gone nearly _two hours_ ,” Enjolras fretted, and Grantaire let him take an icy hand between his warmer ones. “You shouldn’t have been out there so long.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have said what you did.”

Guilt and remorse flickered immediately over Enjolras’ features. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” Grantaire let his head rest on Enjolras’ shoulder, feeling Enjolras’ arm slip around his waist and pull him closer. “I didn’t mean what I said, either.”

“Why do we do this?” he sighed into Grantaire’s hair.

Grantaire didn’t answer; he didn’t have an answer. It wasn’t a real question, anyway. Neither of them was about to leave the other, but neither had the fanciful notion that they could stop arguing. They had gotten better about it, at least. Fights were fewer and farer between—and almost always this easily forgiven. It was always more about lashing out at each other than actual content, which made the forgiving easier.

“So. Bed?”

He felt Enjolras stiffen under him. “Uh, well…”

“What?” Grantaire demanded, lifting his head.

 The tinge of pink was back on his cheeks. “There’s a spider. In the bedroom.”

Grantaire grinned with contained laughter. “ _That’s_ why you’re out here.”

“I locked it in there so it wouldn’t get out.”

At that, Grantaire did chuckle lightly. “You could have called me, E.”

Enjolras frowned. “I figured you were still angry.”

“You can _always_ call me. No matter what,” Grantaire insisted softly. “Even just to come home and kill a spider.”

“Alright.”

A smile flitted over Enjolras’ features and Grantaire couldn’t resist kissing the corner of his mouth before slipping off the couch. “I’ll go find the menace and avenge you,” he smirked, even as Enjolras sighed and pushed him playfully.

After an hour of searching high and low to no avail, and three failed attempts at convincing Enjolras he’d caught the damn thing when he hadn’t, Grantaire gave up.

“Come on, E, it’s late and I’m exhausted,” he pleaded. “I’ll protect you from the spider, I swear.”

Enjolras was unwavering. “It’s the size of a _tarantula_.”

“ _Please._ I’m so tired.” Grantaire wasn’t above begging or puppy dog eyes.

“I’m not sleeping in there—not with a tarantula on the loose,” Enjolras insisted firmly.

 Grantaire groaned. “Fine, you sleep out here by yourself and I’ll go sleep in our _nice_ , _warm_ bed.”

Enjolras crossed his arms.

“I’m not giving in, Enjolras,” Grantaire informed him, and Enjolras merely stared. “No seriously. I am _not_ sleeping on the couch because there’s a tiny bug in our room.”

The pair ended up curled together on the couch in spite of all of Grantaire’s grumbling. It was crowded—not made to fit two grown men—and Grantaire was certain he would end up with Enjolras’ elbow in his face and knee in his stomach. Even so, it was worth the soft “I love you” murmured into the still air. He whispered it against the back of Enjolras’ neck in return and took pleasure in the shiver he elicited. They fell asleep completely content and wrapped in each other.


End file.
